


Another Request

by Jasmine27



Category: Original Work
Genre: Begging, Creeper, Dirty Talk, Dominance, F/M, Fingering, I Blame Tumblr, Light BDSM, Orgasm, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Female Character, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stalking, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 12:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasmine27/pseuds/Jasmine27
Summary: I like writing my stories at night and in a cafe. Someone from my Tumblr recognised me after a little mistake of mine.





	Another Request

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Many thanks to Luxx, Onyx03 and TheMasterBaiter for their help in brainstorming and editing. 

Everything happened a couple of weeks ago while I was working on the story “Office Whore” that was just published here.

 

I live in an apartment, away from all my friends, family, and acquaintances. I like my own time. In fact, I have been living in this apartment since I was in college. What made me interested in it was that below it, there’s a cafe. I used to go there to write my assignments. What makes it great is that it does not have a closing time. I don’t think it ever closed; I studied there until 4 am once. 

 

It’s sort of a quirky place, with it’s own unique feeling. There are booths with deep padded seats, like an old school diner. There is a big mirror on one wall, so you can see everyone else in the place. It’s makes me feel safe because no one can really sneak up on you or surprise you. 

 

The staff knows me. I mean they’ve seen me since I started university after all. So, it was not alarming to them when I come down with my laptop in the middle of the night and start typing furiously. There is a wonderful feeling of comfort that is almost like being at home.

 

However, when a new guy started showing up regularly at odd hours, like in the middle of the night, I did see them looking concerned. I could sense the tense mood. 

 

It would be a lie to say that I did not look at him from time to time. He was attractive. He was tall with broad shoulders and muscular arms. I noticed a scar on his collarbone. I felt bad for thinking that it added to his attractiveness. Before long I was checking him out in the mirror in front of me almost every time I took a break from writing, but I was really careful, so I was sure he didn’t see me. 

 

That night, it was past midnight. He had come in and taken the next table, right at my back. I was not used to having people sit behind me because at those hours, I was usually the only one in the cafe. 

 

There was the new guy and I alone in the cafe. The silence was deafening. I was sipping on my espresso while typing the main points of my story. Inspiration usually strikes me at night. I felt pumped up and I wanted to at least start a draft. In the mirror, I could see him typing lazily on his Mac. 

 

Suddenly, he got up and walked to my table. I was about to take out my earphones thinking he might ask me something. But he did not. Instead, he simply stood in front of me. I stared at him, somewhat perplexed but, as always, ready with a snarky remark.

 

“Oh yeah, of course, you can sit here. Want me to bring you something as well?” I sneered at him.

 

He chuckled. Despite being so gorgeous, he pissed me off. Manners are important to me. 

 

“Maybe you could tell me about that story you’re working on, Jasmine.”

 

I stared at him, shocked and confused. I could not answer. How the fuck did he know my pen name? Several scenarios ran through my head. I could already imagine the conversations that I was going to have with several people if he exposed me to them, trying to explain why I was writing porn online. I could feel my face getting warmer. I was certainly blushing. 

 

“I just- I mean I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is not Jasmine,” I stuttered. 

 

“I know,” he leaned back in his chair, “But you said to call you that on Tumblr.”

 

I still pretended that I did not understand what he was talking about. I rolled my eyes, trying to look somewhat credible.

 

“You have me confused with someone else.”

 

Realizing the outline I was working on had a title and my pen name at the top, I let out a nervous laugh and closed my laptop. I continued staring at him and did not say anything.

 

It was he who broke the silence.

 

“Do you want to know how I found you?” he said in a very smooth American accent. I was a little bit relieved when I realised that he was not from here. I was reassuring myself that it would be hard for him to guess my workplace and other key things. I nodded warily and kept looking at him. He suddenly did not appear as nice as I had hoped he would be. His approach really intimidated me. 

 

“A couple of weeks ago, you posted a picture of yourself on Tumblr. It was carefully cropped to not show your face or anything else identifiable, but you had your location turned on. That data gets saved in pictures automatically, but you know that don’t you? You deleted the pic a couple of minutes later, just when I was about to reblog. It was a chance really, to know where you live. I was able to pinpoint this cafe from the location tag. I’m here for business and I needed to find a cafe to work in anyway, so I thought, why not this one?” He kept looking at me while he spoke and it was making me uncomfortable.

 

I cursed myself for making such a foolish mistake and internally groaned.

 

“I didn't really mean to find you, you know? It was mostly coincidence. I thought I might possibly run into you if I worked here, but I figured there would be a bunch of people. Then I saw you. At first, I thought you were in college until I saw you were logging onto Tumblr and LitErotica. I saw you uploading links and stories.”

 

He was quiet for a moment as I sat there in shock, then he said: “I have to say that I really enjoy your stories. I’m a big fan of the themes you write about.”

 

I stared at him, not quite believing that he had found me so easily and by chance alone. I was at a loss for words. I folded my hands in my lap and shifted on my seat. I was getting more and more uncomfortable. 

 

I cleared my throat and said, “Well uh, it has been a pleasure. Now if you would please excuse me. I need to get going.” 

 

I put my hands around my laptop and was about to get up when he put his huge hands on top of mine. I tried to pull away but he was a lot stronger than me; his grip pinned my hand down. I cursed in my head and looked around. We were alone in the cafe. The staff was probably in the kitchen or smoking a cigarette outside. Either way, they would not hear anything.

 

“I suggest you sit down and listen to me,” His tone had changed. He probably sensed how uncomfortable I was with the whole situation but now he had gained more confidence and was looking at me smugly. 

 

He got up and moved around to sit next to me, making it impossible for me to get out of the booth. His warmth made me uncomfortable. At this point, I knew that there was no escape. 

 

He placed his hand on my thigh and started stroking it. It was very sudden, not something that I was expecting. I flexed my thigh; my legs are sensitive. I gasped and sort of moaned. I did not react because I wanted this, but rather because I was scared of what he would do if I stopped him. He continued rubbing and stroking as he leaned into me, “You’re beautiful, you know that ?”

 

I heard him breathe in loudly, “And you smell so good.”

 

I was frozen but somehow I gathered what was left of my confidence and put my hand on his.

 

I grabbed it and pulled it away, “Listen here mate, I’m not interested. I’m happy for you to know who I am but it’s getting late and I should probably get going. It was nice meeting you.” 

 

He stared at me blankly and then, burst out laughing. His laugh was sexy and different from what I was used to . And I promise you, if it wasn’t for the situation I would have loved it. Now that I think about it, it is the most beautiful laugh I have ever heard. It was so full of life and devilishly masculine. Despite the situation, I found myself mesmerised by it. It had such an effect on me, making my lower stomach warmer. 

 

“Awh c’mon, stop playing with me. I know you like all that non-con stuff so don’t make me go wild on you.”

 

Every sentence coming out of his mouth was somewhat humiliatingly truthful; I was not used to talking about turn-ons with anyone and everyone. And certainly not in real life. I stayed quiet, again not knowing what to say. He put his hand back onto my thigh and whispered in my ears, “I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long. It’s going to be wonderful.” 

 

He continued to stroke my thigh, making the skin more sensitive than it normally is. I was still trying to register the words that came out of his mouth. I forced myself not to start shaking.

 

“I’m going to do so many things to you tonight.”

 

I let out an audible whimper. There was a battle between my rational mind and my impulsive desires. Yes, it was risky, I didn’t know anything about him, but at the same time, it was something that I’d always wanted to try. Before I could think about it, I nodded slowly. He seemed pleased and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. His lips were firm but soft and every bit as sensual as I had imagined. 

 

“You’re going to be a good girl for me, hm?” I did not say anything this time. I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I would change my mind. 

 

“Open your laptop,” His voice changed to a deep and stern tone. 

 

“What?” I asked, not expecting this turn of events.

 

“You heard me. Open it. I know you were writing main points for your story”

 

I did not like that he knew that much about me. I am a secretive person by nature and the bubble that I was living in was being threatened. 

 

But I complied and the screen lit up. He scooted closer to me, gripped my thigh as if he was scared I was going to leave and begin reading silently. 

 

As he was reading, I looked at him and noticed that he was trying not to smile. 

 

I felt a weird sense of pride as I realised that he was somewhat enjoying the plot. 

 

“So is that a fantasy of yours? Do you want to be reduced to the office whore?”

 

I did not say anything. I wanted to justify myself but I could not. 

 

His strong hands moved higher and he played with the hem of my shorts. My breath quickened, I tried desperately to convince myself that it was going to be okay. That I should treat this like any other one night stand. 

 

“Do you even know what a tease you are? Always posting pictures of little parts of yourself. Showing just enough to give us a good wank and keep us coming back for more the next day.”

 

I nodded, hoping that he would move his hands just a little bit higher. At this point, my cunt was leaking juices and my clit was throbbing. My god, he was so good with his dirty talk.

 

“Even in this cafe, I bet you feel better knowing that you make guys get a semi every time they see you.”

 

I knew I had an effect, but not that kind of effect. I stayed frozen. His hand slipped inside my large tennis shorts. 

 

“Shit, you’re not wearing any underwear,” he took his hand out and hastily slid them inside of my large sweater. I could feel my nipples harden before he even touched them. He cupped my bare right breast, I hadn't bothered to put on a bra either, and briefly played with my nipple. He tweaked and pinched it roughly, making my hips gyrate autonomously. He was eager to discover my body and touch me for my pleasure rather to just get a quick fuck. 

 

I looked down and saw his erection through his pants. It was obvious that he was hard as a rock and very turned on. It was as if he was more excited about knowing me rather than fucking me.

 

“It’s like you came here begging to be fucked, yeah? What a fucking whore you are. I bet you would have let anyone fuck you tonight.”

 

Even if he was wrong, what he was saying was making me even wetter. His hand went back to my shorts and he started rubbing my lower lips while avoiding my clit. It was frustrating. I looked at him and he was staring back at me, his face full of pride. He collected some of my wetness and spread it around. 

 

That’s when I completely gave in.

 

I leaned into him and let out a barely audible “please.” 

 

“No,” he said with a laugh. “I want to hear you really beg. I want to hear what a desperate slut you are.”

 

I whimpered, knowing that talking while being pleasured was not my forte. I took a long breath and looked him directly into the eyes.

 

“Please, I need yo- you to just,” My hips bucked, “fuck me?”

 

He let out a gentle laugh and finally touched my clit. At this point, it was throbbing and was really sensitive. The moment he touched it, I let out a loud moan. The pleasure was coursing through my body. 

 

“No. I’m not going to fuck you sweetheart, even though I know you would like that. I can’t fuck you here and I doubt you’d bring me home anyway, no matter how bad you want this.”

 

I felt a knot release in my mind the moment he mentioned that he did not know where I lived. 

 

He then stopped. I whined pathetically, already missing the pleasure. 

 

“Whenever you stop begging, I stop moving my fingers.”

 

I clenched my hands on the cushion below us and resumed.

 

“C’mon, I need you please. Do something, anything,” My voice was more sturdy.

 

“Anything, huh?” He dipped the tip of his finger inside of me and pulled out.

 

I was getting even more desperate. 

 

I took a deep breath and whined, again. “I need you in me. God, please… Please!”

 

“You mean in your cunt?”

 

This time, I moaned, nodded, and let my head fall back.

 

“Say it. Where do you want my fingers?”

 

I groaned, not used to using those words in real life. I never curse. 

 

I could feel tears building in the corner of my eyes, desperate and frustrated at the lack of attention my body needed and was not getting. I wanted to so bad, but I could not.

 

“I can’t- I’ve never,” I tried saying while he lightly rubbed my clit. 

 

“Awh, tears already? Do you mean you never use the word ‘cunt’?”, 

 

I nodded. 

 

“So you pretend you’re a respectable person in real life and then you expose yourself on the internet? Well if you tell me where to put my fingers, I promise you’ll get rewarded.”

 

Frankly, I don’t know how I did it. Maybe it was utter desperation, or just blatant submission, but I somehow gathered all the willingness to have an orgasm that welled within me, and I managed to whisper it.

 

“I ne- need your ugh, your fingers in my… in my… in my cu-nt?” 

 

I said the word in two syllables, trying to convince myself that something so raw and dirty did not come out of my mouth. I like to think that the fact that it was more of a question than an order of some sort which made him thrust, not one, but two fingers into me while stroking more consistently with his thumb.

 

So much pleasure was coursing throughout my whole body as my hips bucked, trying to match his rhythm. It was so intense, it was spreading over my whole body making me weak and making my tummy feel funny, a mixture of butterflies and molten lava making my whole being so vulnerable to his touches. I fell forward gently on the table, closing my eyes and focusing on the pleasure.

 

But he wasn’t having any of that.

 

He wrapped my braided hair around his fist and pulled my head back, “I want you to look at yourself, getting fingered by a complete stranger in the mirror. Is that what you wanted? God, what a fucking slut you are. You’re so fucking wet, you little fuck.”

 

I looked in front of me and the sight turned me on even more. My face was flushed, my lips swollen and raw because I had been biting on them. My hair was now a mess and you could see the desperation on my face because of the small tears that ruined my mascara. I moaned at the sight.

 

Then I felt myself approaching the point of no turning back; I was going to cum. I could feel my insides clench harder around his fingers, almost begging them not to leave my body.

 

I think he knew that I was going to cum; maybe from my face, maybe from how I was breathing harder. I don’t know, but at that time it only added to the pleasure when he growled into my ear with a demanding voice and yet he pleaded, “Please, won’t you cum for me? I want you to cum on my fingers. I want to taste you- fuck. C’mon please, cum for me.”

 

The way he was begging me to cum for him made me fall from the edge. I buried my face into the crook of his neck and bit down on his shirt collar, not wanting to make any noise. I felt warmth spreading throughout my whole body as I arched my back, making my nipples rub against the soft fabric of my sweater. 

 

He continued to lazily pump his fingers eventually removing them slowly. I felt him curving his fingers and pulling out. At first I did not know why until I saw his fingers. There was a huge amount of my juices on them. I looked at it and true to his words, I watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them while humming. It was one of the most erotic things I have ever witnessed. I could feel him enjoying my taste as if it was a delicacy that he had been looking for.

 

“You taste really good, you know that?” I nodded. I do know.

 

He then came closer to my neck and bit the exposed skin. I don’t know how to explain it but it was so animalistic; it felt as if he was marking me, or maybe leaving something behind for me to remember him. Whatever it was, a couple of times during the following week I ran my fingers over the mark until it faded, reminding me of how he made me feel that night. 

 

He pulled away from my neck and stared into my eyes for a couple of seconds before adjusting himself in his seat. 

 

I looked at the bulge in his pants and thought to myself that I did not want to pleasure him, I needed to. I wanted to give back somehow; to make him understand how he made me feel. I reached for his cock and squeezed, feeling how thick it was. I would be lying if I said that I was not getting wet again.

 

However, he simply got up. I was confused, not knowing what to say. Should I stop him? I wanted to tell him that I wanted him to stay, I wanted to make him feel good as well. But the logical part of me refused. I did not want to threaten everything that I had worked so hard for; I could not.

 

I think he wanted me to ask him to stay or he wanted me to say something. But he simply removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the my table. I watched him go to his laptop, pick it up and leave, without ever glancing back at the debauched mess that he’d made of me.

 

I stared at the note for a few moments before picking it up and reading;

 

“I have a plot request; write about what we did tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey!  
> Hope you liked this story. Don't forget to leave kudos and to drop a comment.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [my tumblr!](http://queenassbitxh.tumblr.com/)


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